


A Midnight Stroll in Amarnaset

by Khelkhet



Series: Akila of Cimmeria [2]
Category: Conan - Robert E. Howard, Conan Exiles (Video Game), Conan the Barbarian & Related Fandoms, Conan the Barbarian (1980s Movies), Conan the Barbarian (2011)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10431081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khelkhet/pseuds/Khelkhet
Summary: Akila, a Cimmerian Exile, takes a midnight stroll through Armanaset; home of King Anukshep and his wife, Queen Hemekthes, as she sets out on what she anticipates to be a long, hands-on process of investigating and understanding the city--and judging its rulers' intentions in this cursed land.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was done for two main reasons;  
> One being a way to show the players involved what Akila was up to, off-camera, while we ended our 4-am Rp session to sleep, and the second being my attempt to ooze myself back into writing! I ask that if you comment or review to please be constructive. I am out of shape, this genre is new to me, and I know it's not the best, at all. Help would be appreciated. Please don't be an ass. :>
> 
> Akila is an original character on a private RP-PvP server, and is mine.
> 
> Hemekthes, Anukshep, and Altan are the intellectual creations and property of their respective owners.

Akila of Cimmeria sat, eyes closed, on the steps of  _ The Thirsty Thrall _ . 

The moon had been out for hours by this point; she’d passed a few hours enjoying the pleasantries of the brothel; men, women and drink had passed through her fingers. She’d spent some of what she’d brought to trade for clothes and fineries for the Inn on the brothel services and more than her share of drink, but there were no regrets. Had she not made a show of indulging so freely, an observant or critical eye might well have noticed the mugs of ale and spirits rarely made it to her lips, but rather were abandoned on tables or gifted to pretty eyes to make them smile.

In her line of work--could she even call it work?--alcohol in excess could interfere with her ability to perform. Balance and vision, if altered, could prove deadly to her and humorous to her prey. Altered vision would have made it hard for her to scan the ramparts in the darkness for patrols. Altered balance would have made it easy for an annoyed Hyrkanian to pick her off before she could do the same to him.

Her unstrung bow remained behind at the space she’d rented for the night; her dagger remained tucked into its sheath.

She made no secret of her presence, nor, really, of what she was doing. The torches illuminated her there on the steps, legs stretched out before her and the weight of her body supported on her hands behind her and her gaze critically evaluated what she could see of the city in the dead of night. 

Hemekthes had implied an army of archers that could be at the ready to defend Amarnaset should such an action become necessary. Akila waited there on the steps for an hour or so, watching, trying to get a feel for the patrol routes and numbers, and nothing fairly easily that no army was in place. 

Not that the Cimmerian doubted there was one to begin with. Nor, for that matter, did she doubt the Kushite woman’s ability or willingness to deploy them, but rather she noted that the sparse patrols suggested, if anything, that there was a fair degree of confidence in the fact that for now, at least, there was no great threat. 

Akila shoved off from the steps, dusting off the thick leather armor that made her sweat far too much; seemingly moreso now that Hemekthes had drawn attention to that fact. Akila passed the Camel, who had settled its legs under it and was contentedly chewing its cud, unloaded of its burden and waiting to depart back to the south with its shipment. It snorted at her as she passed, baring its white teeth and hissing. 

“Hush.” She scolded it simply, dodging to discourage it from spitting at her and began to walk toward the Pyramid to the west. 

Again she made no secret of her presence, even going so far as to strike up a torch so she could better see her immediate surroundings, even as it crippled her own view of the ramparts. Now would be the time, if he were so inclined; an obnoxious Cimmerian cut down from afar by an unknown assailant. Her body would feed the hyenas, if she was lucky, or be corrupted and enchanted if not. No arrows came, however, and so she continued through Amarnaset.

Matunde had shown her the city, which was a different experience than she’d had just exploring on her own. He’d shown her the various places and explained what each was, and he’d shown her the golden apple; gates to the inner city, entry denied to all those but friends and family.

It killed her wondering what lay beyond those walls…

Not that she suspected they had anything terribly impressive. A private marketplace? A throne room? What was there was far less important than the fact that  _ she didn’t know _ , and that it was denied her. She was, therefore, not at all surprised to find that her feet had, entirely of their own accord, taken her directly to the steps leading up to the gate while she had been innocently wondering about more important matters, such as making certain she was not being followed--or, at least if she was being followed, that she was not being followed too closely.

Pausing there--after all, it seemed a waste not to at least investigate, Akila examined the gate. She made no move to try to pick it, however, or find some other way in. Despite the misbehaviour of her treacherous feet, she had no intention of actually violating any laws of Amarnaset.  _ Exploring. _ That was all.  Exploring, learning, investigating.

Studying.

The patterns of the patrols interested her the most; the patterns and the size. 

She could understand Altan’s concerns; she absolutely was sizing up the city. Its people, too, would be the target of her curious, critical eye.  She silently acknowledged as much as she noticed his home in the distance, not far from the stables. He -was- right, but only partly, and only inasmuch as she did seem to be spying; the problem was, it was for herself...and that she had not lied about her intentions.

Truth. That seemed to be the key to dealing with her easily offended hosts.

That, she could handle.


End file.
